


of rivers and of selfish men

by PhoenixAccio



Category: Hunt Down The Freeman (Video Game)
Genre: Dissociation, Empath, Hurt/Comfort, Literal Sleeping Together, M/M, Mind Meld, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, adam's psychic in like a vulcan way, not in a horny way i promise, xen adam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:34:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26777452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhoenixAccio/pseuds/PhoenixAccio
Summary: Mitch has a pretty bad panic attack. Adam helps.
Relationships: Mitchell Shephard/Adam (Hunt Down The Freeman)
Kudos: 5





	of rivers and of selfish men

**Author's Note:**

> like many of my fanfictions, this started as a discord message and then i got invested

Mitch's hands are over his ears, curled up tight in a ball rocking in short sharp jolts as he tries to block out the gunshots echoing in his mind. He isn't really hearing them, he knows he isn't, but what else can he do? If he doesn't cover his ears he'll succumb to the drowning panic, he knows. His nails dig into his mangled, scar-crossed scalp, in need of a trim and contasting sharply against their old ever-present bitten-to-the-quick rawness. He was doing so well, he was okay, he was _fine,_ and now he's curled up on his bed head covered and sobbing like a frightened child just because some idiot green recruits had thought it would be fun to pick up some firecrackers on the last supply run, even though they _knew_ the awful things were contraband.

Right now though, firecrackers are the last thing that should be on Mitchell's mind. There are soldiers all around him, firing at things Mitch has never seen before, massive one-eyed-- No. No. It wasn't real, he wasn't there, Mitch knew that he _knew_ that he knew where he was he was-- he was on the bed-- What bed? He-- it-- Mitch was floating, he could feel it, how could he know the surface below him was real, it was soft, too soft, softer than anything _he_ should be touching--

Mitch curled tighter, pulling his knees up to his chest with an arm and pressing the now-uncovered ear against his shoulder to try to at least cover it a little, to block out the _noise._

There's a knock on the door. Mitch flinches, desperately reaching to his side, to the table, to the bed beside him, where was his gun, where was it, he _needed_ it he was in _danger_ why had he left it out of his reach he was going to get himself _killed_ he--

"Mitch?" came a soft voice from the door Mitchell hadn't heard open. Mitch curled tighter, eyes squeezing shut as he tried to block out all stimuli, hoping vaguely that this wasn't real either, because none of this was real, was it, he wasn't real--

There was weight on the bed, mattress shifting to accommodate. Mitch jerked, hard, heart pounding life-or-death, telling him to run, fight, _something,_ but Mitch knew it was no use. He didn't have his gun, and the assailant was too close to him to get anywhere.

"--can I help you, what's--" Mitch hears a voice, as if from a great distance, through the ineffectively blocked ear against his shoulder. "-tchell are y--"

The voice fades in and back out again. It's reassuring, familiar, Mitch doesn't know why, it isn't _Adrian,_ he knows that, knows his baby brother's voice, when he has one. Whoever is talking to him now may not be Adrian but Mitch tries to focus on their voice over the yelling and gunshots echoing all around them.

"--tchell. Mitch. I think I can help," the voice says. This seems unlikely, so Mitch shakes his head 'no' as hard as he can (so, 'not very').

"I can help you, Mitch, you just need to trust me, okay? Please?"

Mitch waits, weighing his options. He can't fight back, can't escape. He might not be in immediate danger, and he _does_ want this to stop. Mitch nods. What else can he do?

After what feels like an eternity, whoever it is places their hands on the side of his head like-- like some kind of Vulcan, Mitch thinks out of nowhere. It's a ridiculous thought, but it reminds him of Adrian when their father was out or unconcious and they would sit together on the couch and watch Star Trek, back when they were smaller and Mitch still lived at home most of the time. Mitch can't feel his body, can't feel the hands on his head, so he nods, frantically, desperate to get out of this, to stop feeling so _scared._ Then something slips gently, carefully, into Mitch's mind, and Mitch's vision folds inwards.

Adam doesn't know why he thought this was a good idea. He saw Mitch on the bed, saw something clearly wrong with him--Adam isn't good with facial expressions but even he can identify abject terror in a man's eyes. Eye, in Mitchell's case, no thanks to Adam. Maybe it's the experience, Adam thinks bitterly. He's had a lot of practice with fear. All Adam needs to know is that Mitch is clearly terrified, and Adam knows he has to help him, if he can. The operative term there, and the part Adam is so scared of, is the _if._ He tells himself it's fine, that he won't hurt Mitchell, that he's already damned either way so what does it matter if he doee. He tells himself he will fix this. He places his hands on the sides of Mitchell's head.

It's instinctive, for the most part. A brain is a brain, regardless of species. As Adam is in there, however, he begins noticing differences. Structural, chemical, even the colours it impresses on his mind are all wrong, electrical indicators of a living brain opposite what Adam is used to. He can see the panic though, flowing through Mitchell's mind like foaming whitewater, concealing deadly points. Adam moves forwards, and begins to move things around. He gently rearranges the panic of the water, redirecting the river to widen and calm it, slowing the frantic flow. It's slow work, and meticulous, and sometimes requires backtracking if something changes in a way Adam doesn't expect, but it works. Adam sighs, relieved as the raging river calms to a slow-moving stream. He's okay, Mitch will be fine. Elsewhere in Mitchell's mind Adam feels movement and follows it. Mitchell is standing in a field, fighting off six aliens at once. Adam frowns, entering the headspace Mitch has manifested.

"Mitchell?" Adam asks, gentle but loud enough for Mitch to hear.

Mitch looks up, shocked, and then immediately pulls his attention back to fighting.

Sighing, Adam pushes forwards and past the creatures, forcing them to fall apart to shadow as he does. When he reaches Mitch, he kneels down slowly, trying not to scare him.

"It's okay, Mitch, you're okay, I promise," Adam says. When Mitch looks up at Adam and doesn't look away, Adam slowly, carefully, wraps his arms around Mitch in his mind. Outside of Mitchell's head, Adam wraps his arms around Mitch for real as well, doing his best to split focus. Mitch is shaking, but he already seems like he's calmed down.

"Mitch," Adam says out loud and in Mitch's head, once Mitch has had a moment to calm down.

"Adam," Mitch whispers back, already clearer, and with this confirmation Adam pulls himself out, watching as the headspace dissipates with his retreat.

Back in both their bodies, Mitch wraps his own arms around Adam, returning the hug. Adam can feel the press of Mitch's crooked nose--broken by him, Adam thinks guiltily--at his collarbone as Mitch buries his face in Adam's shoulder, still shaking. Tears dampen the fabric where Mitchell's face rests, but Adam doesn't care, because Mitchell is breathing again, even and deep regardless of tremors. After some time--another thing Adam's not good with--Mitchell falls asleep. He must be exhausted, after panicking that badly, and Adam understands the need for rest. It stirs something in him though, that anyone, but especially Mitch, can trust Adam enough to let himself be so vulnerable with him. Mitchell is asleep in Adam's arms, as if he knows for a fact that Adam will not harm him. As if Black Mesa never even happened. _He doesn't know it was you,_ Adam's brain reminds him, and he knows, _god,_ he kmows, that Mitch will have to find out eventually, but for now he will let himself hope. Adam will let himself hope for one night, and pretend he can be forgiven.

He can help for now, while Mitch still trusts him. Adam can help, and he knows he's going to help as much as he can before it's all over. Adam doesn't expect mercy. He doesn't except forgiveness. That was never on the table for him, a tiny, helpless thing who had been _born_ on borrowed time. Adam doesn't expect anything from Mitch, but if it's selfish to hope for a little peace before it ends, a little comfort with people he knows he's going to miss for all he'd tried not to get attached, then Adam is a selfish man. He can accept that. It's hardly his greatest sin, and if it is what ends up tipping the balance then who is Adam to complain?

Adam would rather be damned as a happy fool than give up even one more moment right here.


End file.
